Dragon Slayer
by evilton-chin
Summary: As Hiccup shoots down and kills the Night Fury, his life in Berk begins to change. And the future isn't looking bright for dragons. {warning for blood and animal violence}
1. Chapter 1

It hasn't been a good day for Hiccup.

That is to say, it was a typical day after a dragon raid. Although none of his village's inhabitants were seriously wounded, like many times before, Hiccup has once again further cemented his infamy as Berk's disgrace. A small, skinny, runt of a boy, clearly unfit to be the future leader of the Hooligan Tribe, though he was the son of Chief Stoick the Vast, and therefore heir to his position. Granted, he didn't do himself any favors by attracting the attention of a Monstrous Nightmare, nearly getting himself killed by its flames and unintentionally causing even more damage to an already ravaged village of Vikings, even after being told to stay indoors and out of trouble. But the scowls of disappointment from all of his tribe, including his father, were an experience he would never really be used to, despite their frequency.

Especially in light of him shooting down a dragon. As in, legitimately hitting one, this time. And not just any dragon; the Night Fury. A mysterious dragon that's been terrorizing Berk for ages. If only he could actually find it and prove his feat to everyone.

"Ugh, the gods hate me. Some people lose their knife, or their mug. No, not me. I manage to lose an entire dragon", Hiccup exclaimed to himself as he hopelessly combed the woods in search of the downed beast. In frustration, Hiccup smacked a nearby tree branch, which promptly recoiled right in his face.

As he massaged his aching forehead, he noticed that this tree had been violently bent and split, as if something big and heavy had crashed into it, the up-turned soil trail right next to it providing further evidence to that theory. Hiccup slowly moved closer to the slight trench that followed and took a peak above it, only to immediately duck when he noticed the body of a big black beast. He peaked his head again, now carefully, to confirm his impression.

He's found it. The dragon he shot down. The Night Fury was now entangled in the bolas shot by Hiccup's invention.

Hiccup quickly reached for the pocket dagger inside his vest and carefully approached the dragon's inert body. When he saw no reaction, he incredulously beamed.

"Wow… I-I did it! I did it, this fixes everything! Yes", he exclaimed as he triumphantly stroke a victorious pose, bringing his foot onto the fallen dragon. "I have brought down this mighty beast-"

And just as he stepped on it, the dragon struggled slightly, promptly startling the young Viking boy. So it was still alive.

For now.

Hiccup recomposed himself and nervously brought his dagger forward. As he approached the heavy-breathing dragon, it finally opened its eyes.

Those green eyes had an almost haunting beauty to them, like big glimmering emeralds that masked the menace of their thin-slit irises. The dragon's stare was cold and indifferent, as if to judge the boy pointing a blade to it. They were not eyes one would typically expect a savage beast to exhibit when faced with danger; they were eyes of resignation, from a creature that had accepted death and has chosen to face it with regal pride. Hiccup made conscious effort to steady his breathing and ignore the Night Fury's gaze, as he prepared to strike.

"I'm gonna kill you, dragon. I'm gonna", Hiccup took another deep breath. "I'm gonna cut out your heart and take it to my father." He closed his eyes and whispered, "I'm a Viking." With another rumble from the dragon, he shouted, " _I'm a Viking!_ " And with this, he raised his dagger over his head, preparing to stab the dragon. For an instant, Hiccup even thought he caught a glimpse of fear in the creature's eyes, despite its cool demeanor. Was the infamous Night Fury afraid? As he wondered, he noticed his hands were shaking while holding his small blade. At last, the beast closed its eyes and rested its head on the floor, fully embracing its fate. Hiccup shut his own eyes tight, maintaining his striking stance but still unable to move.

Why did he hesitate? What are these second thoughts he was having? Why did he find such difficulty in bringing himself to kill a single defenseless dragon?

It's not like he's never seen one be killed before. In a village of Vikings under constant attack from dragons, you were bound to see the deaths of at least a dozen that were too stubborn to allow themselves to be captured and used for training of the younger Vikings. Either they fought back these gigantic pests, or they'd be the ones roasted and eaten.

But this case was different. Hiccup shot this one down first. All of this was entirely caused by him; it was his responsibility.

"I did this."

Hiccup just couldn't bring himself to finish his deed. He felt a slight lump in his throat. Was that really it? Was he really not fit for killing dragons? Hiccup took a few steps back. What if he just left the dragon be? Maybe it'd eventually free itself, despite its injuries. Or it would wait there and starve to death. Or someone else could find it and kill it. And bask on the glory of slaying the Night Fury. While he remained a failure of a Viking and a shameful display of cowardice and weakness. This didn't have to involve Hiccup.

After another couple of steps away, he came to a complete halt.

No.

He had to do this.

For his whole life, Hiccup's been shunned by his entire tribe. He was made into a mockery by his peers. Whenever they were out there putting out fires and helping Berk regrow, he was stuck sharpening knives and doing frivolous shores at Gobber's forge. If he ventured out to help, he would be held responsible for endangering his life and destroying something, and then he'd be lectured about how he was a shame to Vikings everywhere. He's been a misfit, a weirdo, a useless urchin who left nothing but disaster in his wake. No one trusted him. No one had hopes for his future, either as a Viking or as a Chief. He had nothing left.

This was his changing point. From now own, maybe they'll give him a chance to leave his mark. He would finally have friends. He may even finally get Astrid to look at him. He could be a worthy Viking hero.

All he had to do was kill this dragon.

Hiccup closed his eyes, slowly breathing in and out. "I can do this", he whispered to himself. He inhaled again, opened his eyes, and let out a low growl as he exhaled. He turned around to face the trapped dragon once again. It still had its eyes closed. It waited for death. And Hiccup was going to deliver it. He slowly marched forward, eyes filled with renewed determination. He gripped his dagger tight and raised it above his head once again, taking aim at his jugular. He figured he could at least make its death as swift and humane as possible.

And with a short roar, as he tensed every small muscle in his body, Hiccup brought the knife down.

The blade pierced through the dragon's neck, spraying the boy with blood. The Night Fury gave a loud shriek, his apparent bravado giving way to pain. As it struggled in its binds, Hiccup pushed the handle of his dagger, driving the blade further down its neck. The dragon uselessly flapped its wings, eventually hitting Hiccup, knocking his knife off his place and sending him tumbling away. Hiccup came to a stop hard on the ground, but sit back up quickly, the rush of the moment making him more eager to get back to his feet. With quick breaths, he was about to reach for his blade and continue his fight, but he decided to observe the wounded dragon instead.

It was rapidly losing its vivid red blood. Hiccup didn't know why, but he took notice of that with surprised astonishment. Most dragon raids took place after dark, so the blood of dragons killed every now and then was often obscured, highlighted only slightly by the flames all around. Because of that, even though Hiccup's seen their deaths, he's never really taken a good look at their blood. That somehow deeply caught Hiccup's attention, mostly because of how similar to human blood it was. It was indistinguishable from the blood that drew from his hand that time he cut himself with a blade he playing with once, or the blood spilled by the many wounded Vikings on previous raids.

And as it lost more blood, its struggles diminished. Its growls of defiance gave way to labored gurgles. It obviously had difficulty breathing, what with the big gash down its throat. As it drew the last remains of its strength, the dragon turned its gaze back at Hiccup, which sent chills down the boy's spine. It then made a low sad rumble, and its closing eyes change from desperation for survival to a cold tranquility, with a hint of disappointment in them. And as it closed its eyes forever, it eventually stopped moving completely.

He's done it. Hiccup's done what a Viking was meant to do. He's killed the dragon. So why did he still feel that same lump in his throat from before?

Something about this ordeal didn't feel right. He didn't feel victorious for killing such an exotic beast while it was immobilized and defenseless, even though it was the contraption he invented that threw the bolas, and he was the one to hit the mark and shoot it down.

Hiccup snapped out of his thoughts to pick up his dagger from the ground. He still had one more thing he needed to do with it. Hopefully, whatever came next would be worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

To the massive men and women of Berk, the presence of Hiccup was easy to overlook. Unless it was during a dragon raid, in which case all of the Hooligans paid extra attention to his whereabouts, knowing that leaving the boy unsupervised meant misfortune soon followed. And last night's raid only confirmed that. But right now, as the village tried to go on with daily Viking life – which meant cleaning up the mess made by the dragons, gathering materials to reconstruct the burned houses and picking up whatever stocks those devils didn't take – the Chief's scrawny son was the last thing on everyone's minds.

Then again, the sight of a teenager splattered in crimson strolling through the village was far from an ordinary sight that could be easily ignored.

Hiccup passed by, trying to ignore the gasps of bafflement, but still sporting a nervous look in his face. He was used to only being the center of attention in the worst scenarios, so the eyes locked on him made him incredibly uncomfortable. But who could blame them?

He approached a neighbor's house and stopped by its owner, a traditional Viking man currently busy fixing his house, which had been burned like many all over the village. He was carrying some wood, which he promptly dropped when he looked at the boy covered in blood.

"O-oh, I'm sorry. Huh-hello… Um, have you seen my father?"

The older Hooligan took a while, but eventually responded, "I-I believe the Chief is having a meeting at the Great Hall."

"Oh, okay, thank you", Hiccup said as he turned around to walk away.

"Oi, Hiccup?" The boy looked back at the adult Viking, who was pointing at the volume he carried under his arm. "What's that?"

"Oh, this?" he said, with a strange easiness. "You'll all know in a bit."

* * *

"Either we finish them or they'll finish us! It's the only way we'll be rid of them!" Chief Stoick exclaimed to a gathering of Viking warriors at the Great Hall, in yet another attempt to come up with an end to Berk's dragon problem. "If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave", he continued as he pointed a meaty finger at the map on the large round table in front of them. "They'll find another home", he emphasized his point by sinking a blade into the sea chart. Specifically, into a landmass illustration filled with small drawings of dragons, representative of the hypothetical location of said nest. "One more search, before the ice sets in."

"Those ships never come back", protested one of his men.

"We're Vikings. It's an occupational hazard", dismissed Stoick. "Now, who's with me?" All around, eyes shifted, heads were scratched, excuses were mumbled. This was not going to be easy.

"Alright. Those who stay will look after Hiccup."

Immediately, the entire crowd raised their hands in approval of Stoick's plan. That settled it, yet another journey would take place.

"Yeah, that's more like it."

With the reunion over, Gobber took another sit of the contents of the tankard that currently replaced his left hand, and got up from his seat. "Right. I'll pack my undies."

"No", said Stoick, "II need you to stay and train some new recruits."

"Oh, perfect", Gobber grumbled as he sat back. "Ye, and while I'm busy, Hiccup can cover the stall. Molten steel, razor sharp blades, lots of time to himself... what could possibly go wrong?"

Stoick sinks onto the bench beside Gobber, burdened by frustration.

"What am I gonna do with him, Gobber?"

"Put him in training with the others", responded Gobber.

"No, I'm serious", said Stoick with incredulity.

"So am I."

Stoick still couldn't believe Gobber's proposition. "He'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage."

"Oh, you don't know that", Gobber said, waving his hand dismissively.

"I do know that, actually."

"No, you don't."

"No, actually, I do."

"No, you don't!", Gobber said, punctuating an end to this short debate.

"Listen…" began Stoick, but his line of thought was interrupted by the commotion at the entrance of the Hall, where the men and women present at the gathering seemed quite uneasy. "What's going on?"

As they approached the crowd, they dispersed, making way for their massive leader to observe the object of their attention. When enough people had cleared, he could see Hiccup's head. Of course it was Hiccup. Stoick instinctively became irritated, wondering what he has done this time. That irritation, however, instantly was replaced with panic at the view of his son's body covered in blood.

"Hiccup!", exclaimed Stoick, immediately going down on one knee and grabbing the Viking teen's shoulders. "What happened?! Are you alright?! Are you hurt?!"

"W-wait, no, Dad", said Hiccup, trying to calm his father down. "I'm fine, this…", he gestured at himself, "this isn't my blood."

Stoick steadied his heart into beating with a couple of breaths, and he seemed considerably relieved. Again, that only lasted for an instant as his previous irritation returned. "Hiccup", he said sternly, "what's the meaning of this?"

"Well…", Hiccup cleared his throat to recomposed himself. This was an important moment, he had to be cool-headed about this. He took a few steps down the ladder to the Great Hall, in order to have as many people as possible look at him. "Uh, Vikings of Berk", he spoke with majesty, as loudly as his small lungs could muster. "I-I come with an offering, in the name of Stoick the Vast, my father and Chief of the Hooligan Tribe", he flicked his hand in reverence to the man in front of him.

"This oughta be good", discretely interjected Gobber to Chief, who seemed unamused by the remark.

"Get to the point, Hiccup", said Stoick, losing his patience. "What do you want? And what is that?", he gestured at the dripping chunk of meat he carried.

Rolling his eyes at his father's bullheadedness in this moment of glory, Hiccup continued. "Well, remember earlier this morning, when I said I had shot down a Night Fury?" The reminder of that ludicrous claim made more than a few spectators chuckle.

"Well, here's the proof", he said as he lifted the object of everyone's curiosity. It was a round, crimson slob of flesh, bigger than an adult Viking's head. "I have captured and slain a dragon, and this is its heart; this is the heart of the Night Fury!"

* * *

And, a small party of Vikings marched their way through the island's woods, in search of the alleged dragon's corpse. Not many had actually agreed to come. Most of the adults thought this was only another delusion of the Chief's trouble-making son. Along with Hiccup, Stoick and his right hand Gobber, came half a dozen adults who had begrudgingly been volunteered into coming to carry a heavy load, if it really did exist. The younger Vikings were the most willing to join. After all, even if they didn't find a dragon, they'd find solace in watching Hiccup be punished for lying to the Chief. He'd probably be banished from the tribe. They would either confirm the demise of a powerful enemy or get rid of a sorry excuse for an heir who's been nothing but trouble ever since he could crawl. It was a win, in either scenario.

Stoick made sure to remind Hiccup of these high stakes. "Hiccup, I swear on Thor's name, if you're leading us into a wild-sparrow chase, you'll be in big trouble. We're wasting time we could be using to rebuild the village or prepare for another raid."

"Don't worry, Dad. I promise this will be worth your while", Hiccup told his father, but truth be told, he also meant to tell himself that as well. The things he saw and did were as real as they could get, but he wouldn't put past the gods to play tricks with his mind in order to humiliate him in front of his tribe. Along his entire life, they sure have shown great amusement at his misery.

Regardless, the proof he'd given them was real. Gothi had confirmed that it was indeed a dragon's heart, although she had no way of confirming it belonged to a Night Fury, as no one's ever seen one. The only way to certify that was to show it. Tracing the way back was easy, since the blood-dripping heart had left a maroon trail all the way to the village. Before long, the party arrived at the scene. Everything was in the exact same place Hiccup had left it: the mangled tree, the upturned dirt trail, and finally, a black dragon's corpse.

The entire party was at a loss for words. And curiously enough, that included Hiccup. Now that he looked at the dead dragon, its closed eyes looked sort of peaceful. Were it not for the large puddle of blood it lied on, it was as if it was simply sleeping. He also noticed that the left fin of its tail was missing. Was it supposed to be like that, or was it ripped off by the fall? Hiccup could feel that familiar lump in his throat returning. Was it guilt? Was he feeling sorry for what he's done? He's been told his whole life of how dangerous a dragon was, and therefore he knew he did the right thing. Right?

"So, uh…", eventually, Gobber broke the silence. "Night Fury, eh?"

"Yep, there it is", Hiccup responded, weakly gesturing the corpse.

"This is incredible!", suddenly shouted one of the adults.

"One less of these cursed beasts!", another exclaimed. "And best of all, a Night Fury!"

While the adults took their time marveling at the dead beast in front of them, Stoick slowly walked up to it and took a few seconds to examine it, even giving it a kick at its open would. For some reason, that slightly irritated Hiccup. He had no idea why, but it did.

"Well… it seems to be the devil in the flesh", said Stoick, turning back to face his son with genuine admiration. "Hiccup, this is unbelievable. You actually did it".

"Well, it's like I said, Dad", Hiccup responded, feigning a smile, "I can't stop myself. I see a dragon and I just have to kill it."

"Ey, Hiccup", exclaimed Gobber, tugging at the rope that bound the beast. "Isn't this thing one of those bolas that shoot outta that contraption you invented?"

"Well, there you have it", interjected Snotlout. "He didn't even catch it by himself. He needed a machine to trap it for him."

"A machine _I_ invented, like Gobber said", Hiccup defended himself.

"Well, a _real_ Viking would've killed it with his bare hands", Snotlout continued in his provocation.

"Well, I cut out that thing's heart and now I'm covered in its blood", Hiccup gestured at the drying blood on his clothes, "that's proof I'm a _real_ Viking!"

"Enough!", boomed Stoick, startling both of the young Vikings into silence. "Hiccup's right, Snotlout. Although it's more traditional for a Viking to face dragons in direct combat, this method is also efficient. And besides, it's not like he was welped by anyone else. Hiccup's solely responsible for this dragon's death."

Hiccup was sure his father meant that in a display of pride, but the manner in which he phrased that last sentence sounded slightly accusatory. Like it was his entire fault the dragon was now dead. Which was true.

"In any case", continued the Chief, "we shouldn't let the corpse of this devil go to waste. It'd make too fine a trophy to simply leave it for the worms. Pick it up and carry it back to the village." And so, the adults gathered around the downed beast and lifted it from the ground.

Stoick approached Hiccup with a sincere smile and gave him a hearty pat on the shoulder. "This is a great feat, my son. I'm proud of you." Hiccup forced a smile back. This was what he wanted: his father's acceptance. For once in his life, he's been something other than disappointment. But still…

"Good one for a change, Hiccup", said Tuffnut, taking the small Viking away from his pondering with soft punch to the shoulder.

"You do look cool covered in blood", complimented Ruffnut, with another punch, slightly stronger than necessary.

"I'm just saying, I could've done that", said Snotlout, still trying to defend his point.

"I just wish I could've seen it while it was alive", added Fishlegs, "imagine all the cool stuff it could do."

Hiccup then pretended to not notice one last person still hadn't said anything, trying way too hard not to look at her general direction.

"Hey, Hiccup", he finally heard Astrid's voice, and promptly faced his crush, who had a demeanor as stoic as, well, Stoick. "Not bad", she said, flashing the slightest smile she could muster. "Gonna have a hard time topping that, though."

"Heh, thanks", he answered as he sported an ungraceful lopsided grin, which she fortunately didn't see, since they were all making their way back the village with their newest catch.

Things seemed to be turning out good. Hiccup could really get used to this. If only he could get rid of this chill in his spine.

As they marched back, Gobber approached Stoick. "Does that mean the voyage is cancelled?"

"No", said Stoick, "this may be a relief, but we've no time to celebrate until we find that damn nest."

Gobber grumbled. "Of course, Chief."


End file.
